


Let It Snow

by wooftops



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Battlefield, Blood, Death, Heartbreak, Other, Sad, first story ever, im sorry doc i love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooftops/pseuds/wooftops
Summary: Doc is wounded while taking a bullet for someone. He contemplates life for a good old while.





	Let It Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first mini-fic (I guess) that I’ve ever published anywhere, so don’t expect too much. I’m sorry Gustave I love you, you deserved better.
> 
> I’m sorry to any doc lovers too, you probably should run away from this.

Doc could hardly feel the snowflakes that landed on his face. He was cold enough already, his face numb, the snow on the ground already soaking through his medic uniform. He could only feel a momentary pit-pat on his skin as the flakes landed, then melted and trickled off of his face onto the ground. He felt too stiff to move. Too numb. Too weak. He felt like a ragdoll, a puppet that was carelessly dropped on the ground. He wouldn’t move again without those strings being pulled. 

All he could do was stare up at the sky. He had never really seen this much snow before. He liked how peaceful it is here. He could not hear any more gunshots. It was likely that the group had moved on and had forgotten about him. Gustave smiled to himself as he thought about his time serving with the GIGN. It made him happy to think about the many times he had saved his friends out on the battlefield. It was almost laughable that, in his current situation, he couldn’t save himself. 

The snowfall had slowed considerably. It was no longer a blizzard as it was earlier, but more of a slow drift. A small cough escaped Gustave’s lips. He raised a hand and held it in his line of sight, right up in the air. His vision was blurred, but he could somewhat see the thick coat of blood, both fresh and dried, on the once-white gloves. A drop of blood splashed on his cheek (or was it snow?) and he pawed at it clumsily. All he managed to do was smear more across is forehead, cheeks and nose. 

He returned his hand back to the two bullet wounds to the left of his stomach and pressed down. Or maybe he shouldn’t. Wouldn’t stemming the blood flow just make him suffer longer? He would just be laying there longer, in the middle of a mountain range somewhere in Russia, bleeding to death for those few extra minutes. He knew no one was coming back for him. If they thought he had any chance of living, if they’d cared, they would’ve come back by now. They hadn’t.

Gustave gave in and let his hand drop onto the soft cushion of the snow. The intense pain in his side, blurred vision and numb body told him it would soon be over. A memory flashed into his mind: jumping in front of Julien when he wasn’t paying attention to the bullets flying towards him, searing pain blasting through his whole torso, landing at the bottom of the cliff. If it weren’t for the snow, he would have died from the fall. All his bones would have been broken. He thought his leg was broken, anyway. He couldn’t tell though. He could not feel the lower half of his body, below the wounds. He smiled again, feeling that gentle pit-pat of snow. He blinked. Everything was so bright. So cold.


End file.
